Maggots
by Prayer Machine
Summary: I was born a wriggling mess of pink. I cried, loud and fast, demanding attention from the second my soul entered. I wanted, snot drenched and blood covered, touch - any touch, skin against skin. [Alois' life story, told from his PoV.]


I was born a wriggling mess of pink. I cried, loud and fast, demanding attention from the second my soul entered. I wanted, snot drenched and blood covered, touch - any touch, skin against skin.

My father was the first to hold me.

My mother said cooing, babbling things - and promised to love me for all eternity.

But, that was bullshit. Honestly? All of this is bullshit. I don't remember being born. I don't remember my father's arms. I don't remember my mother's face. They say that your origins are what define you - decide your class, your fate, your story. I can't remember any of mine. Does that make me an eerie enigma? Or just a confused mess?

Anyway, introspection is boring. You want to know what happens next, don't you?

The only important thing was that Luka was born. Luka, my baby brother. My best friend. Mother and father were so proud. I was so proud. I was so, so happy. I finally didn't have to be alone, anymore. I had baby-laughter following me, everywhere. Like a trail of footprints. Truth is, I don't remember that, either. That time in my life is more like a great black blur, full of memories I'm supposed to have had. I don't know when I woke up. I don't know when stuff decided to stick in my head.

The stickiest memories are feelings, though. Or colours. Red. That's burned into me.

When my parents died, (they died, by the way), I was left all alone with Luka. But that was fine! Luka and I had lots of fun. Even though we lived like street rats, he and I were the kings of poverty. L..Luka was a bit naive, a bit young, a bit this and a bit that. He was a bit of everything good. I, on the other hand, robbed, beat and would have murdered, if I got the chance.

Everyone hated us, after our parents died. The village was very small, you see. Very small and inbred. Small and inbred things are always ugly. I didn't just steal, beat and fantasize about murder to survive. I did it because _they deserved it_. They all deserved to _die._

They wanted us dead. We were nuisances to them, crows pecking at their feet. Spare a breadcrumb, spare a penny. They didn't spare us a thought. So we took from them, whatever we wanted, whenever we could.

I remember.

I remember, now, my first real memory. The first thing that stuck.

It's blue.

A field of blue. Of bluebells.

They're all dead, now.

But even when the flowers died and turned to mushy-rot, I was not alone. Even when the flesh hung off of our ribs and we drank from pipes and bathed in filthy rainwater, I was not alone. Even when every single person in the world hated us, I was not alone.

We used to put bluebells in our hair. We used to pretend we were girls.

He used to bow his head and fall down on one knee.

He used to call me his Highness.

...

Everyone died. Everything burned.

I remember, the world was so bright, then. I was not afraid. I was so, so happy. That fire was a cleansing fire, a beautiful fire, a fire that marked our riches and our good fortunes. We were meant to rise from its ashes, rise as phoenixes.

We went about looting the corpses, taking back what all those dirty old fools owed us. I kicked a couple of corpses, threatened to piss on their mud coloured eyes. Luka sang songs, cheered, told me that I had gotten my wish.

...

I don't want to remember this.

I don't know why you're asking me to write this. To think this. To tell you this.

This hurts. This hurts, _please_, _please stop_. I don't want to tell this part of the story. I don't want to.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe, I can't see. Snot fills my mouth. I'm dying. _please stop_.

Luka got lost.

The fire flickered out.

I found his corpse by the river.

He left me all alone.

...

Are you satisfied, now? Does hearing this make you feel good? Feel _sad_ for me, poor little Alois Tracy? Don't lie. You liar. You filthy liar. You don't feel sad at all. You're enjoying this, you're enjoying this like those stupid little dirty novels full of all those stupid little sob stories that you read to make yourself feel a little more ~insightful~. You're a disgusting human being. You deserve to die.

... That wasn't even my name. But I don't want to remember my old name. It's dirty. It's the name _he_ used to call me.

Oh. You don't know about _him_, yet.

Let's skip ahead, then. You're obviously only interested in these juicy bits. The sorrowful little bits of my life, swollen up like maggots. Fine.

I was sold into slavery, offered up as a fly to the spider known as the Earl Trancy. By that point, I was in control of myself. Nothing made me cry. The old pig looked at me and beat me. He said my eyes were of dirty rainwater. He cracked my skin with bruises, made me look like a rotten orange. I wasn't beautiful enough for him, not sexy enough.

That was what he wanted out of us, by the way. He wanted to fuck us. Little boys, no older than sixteen, white and pale and with bones showing. We were his fuckholes. And I didn't mind, not much. I could handle him. I could handle the sword in my throat. It wasn't like I was much more than a hole, then, anyway. Desperate to be filled.

But that hole was not filled by the old man, no. He ripped it open. He widened it, shaped it, made a new shape out of it. That shape, wide and black and terrible, this hole in me - it was to be filled... or so I thought... by the name Claude Faustus.

But now we're skipping ahead. You should really hear how I came to know Claude, and how I watched that old man's organs slither out and die on the floor.

The other boys were whispering delusions to one another, and I overheard. They spoke of a fairy on the grounds of the manor, one you could summon by putting a spider veil across your face and saying the magic words.

Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel.

Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel.

Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel.

Fairy words, babbling words, rubbish.

But those were the words that stirred your ancient heart, weren't they, Claude?

If I say them again, here and now - will you hear them?

Will you come back to me... Claude...?

Let's stop being stupid.

So, anyway. Claude came to me, in the shape of a spider (how original, how bold, how grand.) He told me that he would grant me a wish, any wish. Anything. All for my soul. He was very honest, even from the start. But when I could think of nothing - not wanting revenge, not feeling _anything_, he cast me away. But he would wait, patient. More patient than he had ever been.

I asked him if he was a _fairy_, and oh, how _moronic_ that sounds, now.

He told me that he was a demon.

So, I fucked the old man.

The other boys were dying. Fragile little messes. He infected them with his poison, sinking his nubbly little fangs into whatever he could. And he grew angry, so angry that their bodies would shrivel up and die. So, I became the juiciest fly I could. I became the red butterfly.

He wanted me.

He _worshiped_ me.

For whatever reason, he envied the butterfly's delicate little feet. He probably had some sad story. Something about his dead son. Maybe he fucked him too. Maybe he fucked him to death, and his wife killed herself because _she knew_ and didn't do a _thing_ to stop it. Maybe the only thing he could remember was his little pinkie toes. I don't know. All I knew was that for the first time, I had _power_, I had control.

Still, just because he worshiped me doesn't mean he didn't beat me.

I was his orange, bruised and ripe, all at once. He ripped my wings off. I fulfilled him. He drained me.

And though he fed me well. And though I got a bed to sleep in. And though he covered me in gold, riches, and everything I should ever have wanted - I lay on that bed, empty. It gave me time to think. To remember. In the long silences where I pretended to be asleep, Luka waltzed. His smile, his voice, his laugh - those memories came back to me. I had time, I had time to remember.

I had time to crave vengeance.

Hoheo Taralna, Rondero Tarel.

_I want you._

The demon begged for me. He burned himself into my tongue, red and gold, a circle and a pentagram. And in that moment, I tasted what power really is. In that moment, as the old man got up - shot up, went for his cane. In that moment, when I turned my head and _smiled_ for the first time in so many years, In that moment, I won. I was the pawn who made it to the end of the chessboard. Impossible as it is, I gained a king.

The spider in my mouth asked for a command.

I told him to kill.

There has never been, in this dazzling world, something more beautiful than the whites of that old pig's eyes.

They were so beautiful, I wept.

I covered my eyes, even though I wanted to see. I wanted to see his organs slithering on the floor, withering and dying. I wanted to feel the last pulse of his shitty heart. I wanted to rip off his sword, to dash it and prance on it and crush it into a million pieces and shove it down his bloody, gagging throat. But I didn't see, I didn't see what Claude did and smelt only blood and heard only weary groaning and the slice of flesh.

When I next opened my eyes, I saw only the stitching in Claude's suit. My vision was blurry, my throat was empty. I had been saved. I had been saved. I had been _saved_. My body was crooked, curled up like dying moth. But he held me so delicately, fingers careful not to brush a single bruise. His neck was so warm. I saw, blurred, streaks of gold.

He told me that it was all over, now. He told me that I was safe. He told me that he, forever more, was my eternal guardian, my loyal slave.

I wept against the skin of his neck, and he did nothing but hold me.

...

Life passed then, in a whirl. I spent a year, maybe a year and a half in that manor. It was mine, now. The Earl had recognized me as his long dead heir, and now I had the keys to the kingdom. What a fucked up little fantasy.

I named Claude what he was. He might have been my savior, my hero, my knight in shining tailcoat, but he was still beneath me. Claude means lame. Like a horse sent off from the races. I thought it suited him.

So, the manor was all mine. Claude went about getting me some other servants from hell, and I spent the next however long being cultivated by the spider's plot. Oh, I didn't tell you that, did I?

I was told that Sebastian had made a contract with Luka, and it was inside of his belly where Luka's soul wasted away. Claude told me he was currently bound to one Ciel Phantomhive. I wanted him. I wanted that little brat because I was going to make Sebastian _suffer_, to know the true pain of losing a loved one. I was going to dash and bash and piss all over his soul and shred it up for Claude to beg for in scraps. Wouldn't that have been so fun?

I'll spoil this for you now, I don't win.

Sebastian dared to show up at my manor. He came for the soul Claude stole away from Ciel. Poor demon, he must have been _starving._ I wonder if he could sense the freshness of my soul, or if he could already smell the crappy crudness of it all.

Sebastian died. I got my revenge. Ciel was all mine.

Haha, no. Actually, Sebastian got away. But I remember that night, I remember it like the funeral I had for the butterfly's wings I plucked off. I remember because he plunged me into darkness, and for a moment - for so many moments, I thought I was going to lose Claude. I was sure I was going to lose him. I was so sure. So sure that the fire or the darkness would eat him whole, that he was always so close to the brink of death. But he wasn't a little boy, he wasn't. He was stronger, less fragile than that. He was mine. He was mine, and nothing could take him away from me.

...

I shall skip through the details. I'm getting awfully bored of all this. I tried to seduce Ciel, but he ran and our butlers fought. I tried to kill all his friends, but Hannah failed and Sebastian won. Oh, I forgot to mention. I had plucked out her eye.

... I... I'm sorry, Hannah.

Later, our butler's fought again. Duel after duel. It was all rather exciting, all rather fun - if for a while. But, then Ciel wanted to duel me. So dueled we did, to the death.

He stabbed me right through.

I wasn't a king, anymore. I was a writhing, bleeding, wailing. I was dying. I was the shit on his shoes, the fading light in his eyes. I was so scared, I was scared. It hurt, everything hurt and I was burning, burning up from the inside out and everything was going _dark._

Claude... Claude barely saved me, I don't know why he saved me. I begged for him, I begged for him to help me. But Ciel, Ciel slapped him. Slapped him and got three red splashes all down his face. Those three red splashes... those three red lines, they marked my end.

Claude wouldn't listen to me. I begged him. I wanted to live. I wanted him to save me. I didn't understand. I didn't understand at all - I was his soul, his dinner, his pride and joy and he was supposed to protect me, to _love me_. But he, he was licking his fingers, he was standing there, with eyes burning like the old man's. I had ever seen such a living flame in him, I had seen those eyes as the sun - but they were no longer drying me out, they were burning me.

When I vomited up everything, when I was sure my time was over, Claude finally looked at me. Like maggots in shit.

My soul had been ruined.

I was truly worthless, not even good enough to be a snack.

I passed out.

... Hannah saved me. Or maybe it really was Claude. Regardless, I called on him. I wanted him to dress me, I wanted him to be my savior. He touched my wound, longingly. He wanted me dead. He wanted _Ciel._

Ciel took the only thing that had ever been _mine._

I needed to find him. I needed to be taken to him. Right away. Before I died.

Ciel didn't understand. He was being tricked by a demon, too. He was being used. He must have thought Sebastian loved him. Dear, sweet, perfect Sebastian. That disgusting devil, that creature of evil.

I went crawling to Hannah. I cried salt on her filthy face. She was the only thing I could rely on, in that moment. Something was wrong with Claude. Something terrible and all consuming.

Hannah took me to Ciel. We were on the road. My memory is foggy, like haze. I was dying, slipping in and out - but I had to hold on. I had to make it to Ciel. To Ciel. I was going to kill him. I was going to save him. Maybe he could help me. Maybe he could have loved me, and we could have teamed up against the bad demons together. Maybe if we'd become one, everything would have been perfect.

Hannah, the stupid tart, fucked up. I don't know what happened, the carriage just overturned and I felt pain seethe red and hot through me. Some reaper came, then, blabbering about taking my soul.

Hannah came, and deciding not to be useless, for once - distracted the reaper. I went crawling. I went crawling into the woods - to find someplace more pretty to die. I wanted... to at least... see the stars, that's what I told myself. I wanted to die near a tree, so the tree could absorb me and maybe I'd live on forever in the wood. I was so alone. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know if I was thinking. I wanted Claude.

I know, I know that. I know I wanted Claude.

And he came for me, again. My savior.

A wolf had been snarling, baying for my blood. I was going to let it kill me. But Claude, Claude saved me. He saved me. I said it over and over again. He saved me so he _must have loved me._

My heart remembered that day. I remembered the sweet smell of his skin, oozing out the old man's blood. I remembered his fingers, long and warm and pressed against my back. I remembered seeing those flashes of gold - the colour of the sun, the colour of a _crown_.

I remembered his eyes, then, when mine cleared of tears. I remembered the way he looked at me, with such genuine affection. Not hunger. Not hatred. Not nothingness. Affection. I was the most important thing in the world to him - and I fell in love with those eyes, I fell in love with the endless maze, Claude Faustus.

I wanted to make love to him.

I wanted to give him whatever he wanted, whatever he needed, whatever he could ever, ever desire. Because he was all I had left. He was my idol. He was my prince. My _highness._

I told him, I told him all this - weak and blubbering. I told him with my last wretched breath, I told him that he was my highness. My Highness. _My_ Highness.

He clasped my face in his hands.

The last thing I saw were the eyes I loved so dearly.

The last thing I thought was his lips on mine, his heart surrendering to me.

The last thing I felt was the slice in my throat.

...

That was when I died.

... There is more, to this story. But I don't really remember it.

I... remember Hannah. I remember that she was the whole who swallowed Luka. I remember that she stayed with me because she loved me.

I remember a maze, I remember it being born from my heart. I remember wanting to throw myself to death. But I was not myself. I was not me. I was Ciel. And Ciel was me. I don't know why.

I remember Claude.

I remember asking him why he killed me.

He answered with a lie, he told me he loved me. But he couldn't lie anymore. He couldn't do it. He couldn't. He couldn't. He told me I was a tool. He told me he used me to get to Ciel. He must have loved Ciel. He must have truly loved him, with all his heart. I was worthless, a broken, shattered soul. He had tried to grow me in his garden, and I had come out worthless. Where had he gone wrong? Where? No wonder he loved Ciel, no wonder.

The truth is always harsh.

Hannah... I think she told me. She told me that Luka lived inside of her. That if... she consumed me, if she got my soul - then Luka and I would live together, forever.

I lost all thirst for revenge. But I came to love this dazzling world once more.

Ciel had to live.

So I made a contract with Hannah. I gave Ciel eternal life in exchange for my eternal slumber. Deep in the maze, I was at peace. This was what I wanted. That misguided passion, the strings that left me clinging to life - I could finally clear them away.

But.

First, Claude had to die.

He fought Sebastian, all for Ciel's heart, for Ciel's love. To risk his life, to risk everything - all for a meal? I felt him fight. I felt my tongue burn. He wanted to live. He wanted so much, so much to live. I wish... I don't know what I wished. I wanted those affectionate eyes to win. But I knew, I knew Sebastian would cut him down.

I felt him die.

And... you know? It didn't really hurt. I didn't really feel_anything._

That was when I could finally let go, let go and live in Nirvana, forever, with Hannah. With Claude. With Luka. My memories turn gold, my visions go blue. I saw that endless sky, bright and pale.

And I was not alone.


End file.
